


Spies Like Us

by Savageandwise



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Fluff, I know!, M/M, McLennon, Shocked myself, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: "It was just John and Paul being John and Paul. Nothing new there, was there?"Ringo and George notice a few things about John and Paul.





	1. John and Paul, Paul and John

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Prompt from @softblowjobs: John and Paul doing some cute ass shit while they are drunk and forgetting that George and Ringo are in the same room, George and Ringo find out about their relationship.

When it started out all four of them were sitting around drinking and smoking. Just the four of them having a laugh.

After a while Ringo noticed the dynamic had shifted slightly. He and George were locked in a discussion about hotel soaps and whether or not they made your skin dry. John and Paul were having a conversation that was difficult to follow with only one ear on it.

 

(No.

Because there are different flavours.

Different flavours?

Yes, like ice cream.

What different flavours? There’s chocolate and there’s vanilla.

You’re an ice cream minimalist.

There aren’t different flavours girl, John.)

 

George nudged him with his elbow and angled his chin at the other two Beatles. They were leaning towards each other. Not just a part of them like their faces or their knees or their shoulders. They were leaning into each other with their whole bodies. Their legs were slotted together. Paul had a hand on John’s knee and John had a hand on Paul’s wrist. Their faces were animated, eyes twinkling. They never looked at anyone else like that. Just each other.

Ringo shrugged at George. It was just John and Paul being John and Paul. Nothing new there, was there?

 

(There are, you know. There are whole schools where you’re taught nothing else. What’s your favourite girl? Oh. I know, redheads.

Right.

Well, redheads taste of strawberries. Blondes. Sort of like honey. I never had an Asian girl before but I imagine they’re a bit… spicy.

Well… you’ve certainly thought it through, haven’t you? 

I have, Paul. I really have, you know.

I wonder if they think we have different flavours? 

Do you mean whether Paul flavour is better than John flavour?

Well. It is obviously.

Oh, is that so?

Yeah. A bird told me once.

Lying bitch.)

 

“God, Rings if you give John a little push he’d be sitting in Paul’s lap,” George whispered. He looked as though he was trying not to laugh.

“I saw him sit on Paul’s knee once, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was a party and everyone was dead drunk. There weren’t any chairs left. He just perches himself right on Paul’s knee and puts his arms around his neck.”

“Next you’ll be telling me they started to go at it,” George said in disbelief.

“No, well they didn’t snog or anything.” Ringo rolled his eyes. “They just leaned in really close and started to whisper to each other.” 

 

(I quite like John flavour meself. 

Shh… 

What? They aren’t listening to us. Look at them. 

Do you? Like… I mean… 

Yes. 

Why did you say that, you idiot? Now you’ve got me excited. 

Would you like… ? 

Fuck, yes. 

Shh… 

You shhh. 

Shh… Fuck.)

 

“You mean like now?” George asked.

They turned to stare at the other two again. From this angle they could see Paul’s hand on John’s knee sliding upwards, his fingers splaying across John’s crotch.

“This…” Ringo started.

“Surely…” George started.

John let out a small whimper of pleasure, his head fell forward so that his lips brushed Paul’s ear.

 

(I wish you could really do it. Do it. Like you did last week.

You liked that.

Yeah.

I liked it when you…

Shh. They’ll notice.

Shh.

Paul. They’ll see I’ve got a massive stiffie.

They’ve seen it before.

But it was girls…

Oh, who cares… no one will remember in the morning.)

 

They were giggling, high-pitched, slightly hysterical giggles. Their whispering rapid and breathy. Ringo wanted to look away but found he couldn’t. It was a bit like watching a car crash.

George was watching in an unabashed manner, one eyebrow raised.

Under the table, Paul was rubbing at the bulge in John’s trousers with the heel of his palm. John’s forehead leaned against Paul’s temple. He let out small gasps of breath. His tongue darted out to lick Paul’s earlobe.

 

(Christ, but I want to get these clothes off you.

Later.

Now.

So stop exciting me and…

Okay. You make an excuse.

You do it.

I’m doing it.

Paul. Just a little more of that and I’m going to shoot all over my new trousers.

That a promise?)

 

Ringo grabbed George’s arm. “We should leave.”

“I mean… the cheek of them doing this right in front of us. Like we’re not even here!”

“They must do it all the time,” Ringo laughed. “We’ve been blind!”

“From the looks of it…”

Paul was plastered to John’s side now. Ringo could see his clever fingers fiddling with the zip on John’s trousers.

“No!” John exclaimed.

George stood abruptly, grabbing Ringo’s arm and pulling him up.

“So sleepy! Um… you two go ahead! You… finish the bourbon… we’ll just share tonight, right, Ritchie?“

John’s face was very red. Beside him Paul regarded them with hooded eyes, a vague smile on his lips

“Cheers, mates,” he said.

They bolted out the door but before Ringo could head over to George’s room, George hissed at him. “Wait. Let’s see what they do.”

“George, I don’t think… it’s not right,” Ringo hissed back,

“You’re curious too. I know it. Now hush.”

Paul pulled John up away from the table. Grabbed hold of his arm and manoeuvered him towards the bed. They toppled onto the mattress. They could just about see them from where they stood. George reached over and pushed the door open a few more centimetres.

 

(I don’t think…

Don’t think!

What if they come back?

John. I need you to shut up.

Oh, God.

Yeah.

Oh, God.

You’re alright.

Put it…

Hmmm?

Put it in your mouth, Paul. Oh, God.)

 

Paul yanked the zip of John’s trousers down and then shoved the garment down to John’s knees. He hovered over him for a moment, his hand still stroking John’s cock.

“Good god,” Ringo whispered.

“Fuck,” George said.

“He’s going to… going to… he’s going to…”

“Yeah!”

 

(Oh.

Keep it down this time, yeah?

Oh. Oh.

I mean it.

Oh. Fuck. Oh fuck, fuck. Why are you so good at this? Fuck, Paul. Oh. Oh, God. I… I can’t… I’m… Oh, God I love you. I love you. Oh, God.)

 

Ringo and George just stood there feeling like idiots. Gaping at each other. Paul slid back up and put his head on John’s chest. John was quivering, making sob-like sounds of acute pleasure.

Ringo felt like they had violated their trust.

“Shit,” George whispered. “Did you know?”

Ringo shook his head slowly.

 

(John, baby?

Mmmmmm.

Love.

Mmmmmmmmm.

When you get your breath back.

Yes?

Do me.)


	2. George and Ringo, Ringo and George.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I swear, Rings… just close your eyes and think of England."
> 
> John and Paul noticing George and Ringo.

(Okay. We can do it.

I can't bloody stop laughing.

Well, stop laughing. They'll never believe us otherwise.

Okay. Do it now. No. Not… wait.

I swear, Rings… just close your eyes and think of England.

What was the plan again?

You know the plan. I'm not repeating it. It'll just start you up again.

Right. Close my eyes. Do it fast, George. Speedy, like. So I don't have time to think about it. 

Just shut up. It needs to look real for when they come in and confront us.

Okay, okay. Do it.)

  


They told them they had something they wanted to discuss after they finished writing the new song. With the rest of the tour looming and their schedules tighter than a spinster's twat they certainly hoped Ringo and George weren't about to quit on them. John and Paul were in their hotel room sitting on John's bed, waiting for inspiration to strike. They could hear the sound of laughter coming from the room George and Ringo were sharing.

“I'd like to know what's so fucking funny,” John said darkly.

“Well, surely they aren't about to scarper on us if they're in such a good mood?” Paul asked.

There was a long pause and then the scraping sound of furniture being moved. Then some more giggling.

“What the fuck?” John exclaimed.

Paul put his finger to his lips and his hand on John's knee. 

  


(The problem is there's no room on this bed.

Look, it's not like we actually have to fuck, son.

Jesus, George! 

Okay. We'll push the beds together. Then you hold still. I'll put it in and that's that.

That what you tell all the birds, Georgie? Now I know why you're known as the sexy Beatle.

Oh, shut up. It's me dark mystique. Cause I'm silent and smouldering.

Yeah. That must be it. Okay. Bed’s moved. Do your worst, Romeo.)

  


John looked down at Paul's hand. When he looked back up Paul was smiling at him, that secret smile that was his alone. He felt his mouth go bone dry.

They really didn't have time for that sort of thing, did they? They really did have to finish a song, that's why they’d convinced George and Ringo to share. If they were honest they hadn't had to work particularly hard to convince them. Paul leaned in, placed his forehead against John's.

“They stopped laughing. Maybe they've fallen asleep,” he said. 

John wanted to kiss him but he forced himself to hold back. 

  


(This isn't that bad.

It's easier than I thought it would be, like.

Don't you go queer on me now.

Never. Hmm… make some sounds or something.

What?

Sounds. They have to think you're enjoying it.

You make sounds.

Richard. Make some sounds.

There.

Oh, that's fab. You sound like a dying whale.

Fuck you and all.)

  


 

They heard a long drawn out moan coming from the other room. Paul's hand tightened on John's knee. 

“What are they doing?” John asked but his heart wasn't in it.

Paul shrugged. “Being daft buggers.”

John looked at the wall anxiously. “You don't think..?”

Paul stuck out his tongue, placed the tip against John's bottom lip, licked it deliberately.

“Who cares?” he asked and then tipped John back to kiss him properly.

John didn't need any more encouragement. He pulled Paul down on top of him and wrapped his legs around his waist. 

“What about the song?” Paul asked, amused by John's abrupt change of heart, at the way he tilted his hips upwards to rub against him hungrily.

“Sod the song for a game of soldiers,” John said impatiently and started to remove Paul's clothes. “You started it, baby.”

Paul laughed. “Always my fault, is it?”

“Indeed.”

  


(Shh.

What shh? I was just starting to like it, George.

Oh yeah? Wait till I tell Mo.

Don't you dare!

Shhh. I think they're at it again. No singing…

Ah, well.

We'll just have to compete a bit. Up you get, moan louder this time.

Up… yes! Jump on the beds! Say my name!

What?

My name!

Oh! Ritchie! Oh! Oh!)

  


“What the fuck are they doing?” John asked, his fist was wrapped around Paul's hard prick, stroking it urgently. Paul's face was pressed into John's neck, he was gasping, thrusting in time with John's strokes.

“Oh, John. I don't care, I don't care. Don't slow down. I'm going to die.” 

He wanted to push himself inside John like he'd let him do last time. Push himself all the way in and come inside him, shuddering and weeping into the back of John's neck, but he didn't dare ask for it now. Instead Paul let John toss him off to the sound of George and Ringo, fucking or horsing around, he didn't care. He came with Ringo, who was cursing and calling out George's name. He lay on his side, got John off with a few sloppy strokes, whispering words of love in his ear. After they lay together smeared in come, kissing lazily while sleep lingered near, threatening to claim them.

“Fuckers,” John whispered. “They were just taking the piss.”

  


(This play acting bit is exhausting.

You're telling me.

I don't think they're coming in. I mean, you said they'd barge in all curious, like.

Well, they'll probably say something tomorrow.

Probably.

You think they noticed?

They noticed.

How do you know? I think they were. You know…

You can say it you know…

Making love.

Love… Don't be such an infant, Rings.

Don't you think...I think… it's sweet they're in love. I mean… I wouldn't… not that I approve…

It's okay. It's just John and Paul, right?

John and Paul, yeah.

John and Paul.

You know. You didn't actually have to kiss me. They didn't see it anyway. So it didn't have to look real.

Oh well. 

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Don't tell anyone or I'll murder you.

Took the words out me mouth.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally, finally managed to write the end of this! I'm not a big starrison fan but i hope it works!  
> Someone on tumblr prompted me to write it! 
> 
> Thanks to twinka!! Fastest beta ever and you had to starve too... i wish i could go over and feed you.
> 
> Thanks to chut-je-dors your searching for fics involving George and Ringo noticing John and Paul prompted me to finish it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to softblowjobs for giving me this prompt for my tumblr prompt marathon!
> 
> Thanks as always to JaneScarlett. Spicy flavour. Like me.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to Twinka, my love. 
> 
>  
> 
> And Emma. Cause you're the coolest.


End file.
